


Mike belongs to Foxy

by Mr_Walrus



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: M/M, Mental Instability, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Walrus/pseuds/Mr_Walrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike screws up on the third night only to be saved by Foxy. From that point on, the pirate begins to act bizarrely, obsessively watching and protecting the guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally opened my AO3 account, so I am moving over my fanfics from my fanfiction.net account. I will update both simultaneously. Thank you for reading and enjoy!

It was his third night, just his third fucking night, and he was already fucking fucked. 

Bonnie and Chica spent the whole night camped outside his doors, that goddamned fox had scratched the ever loving hell out of the left door, and even Freddy was starting to roam around the diner.

Mike repeated a mantra of several fucks with a few shits and dammits thrown in. It was 3 AM and he only had 5% energy left at most. 

He knew he shouldn't have taken this job, he'd heard about what happened in '87, but he desperately needed the cash. The pay was shit, but it was enough to pay the rent, at least for a few more weeks. 

Of course that wouldn't matter if he died now.

1% left, he was too goddamn young to die. Twenty-five years old, twenty-five and about to be ripped apart by a bunch of murderous fursuits. 

This was bullshit.

The lights went out.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Mike smashed his fists against the screen in frustration. 

He fell onto the desk, sobbing hysterically. At any moment Freddy would play that stupid song, just like the night before. This time daylight wouldn't come and save him. 

Loud metal footsteps came roaring from down the hallway. Mike hadn't heard that last time the power went out, but he hadn't exactly been paying attention. They stopped right outside his door.

"Dum dee dum," a deep electric voice sang from the doorway. But that wasn't Freddy, Freddy didn't do that, only-

He looked up just in time to see the large animatronic fox smash its hook down on him.

___

Mike’s head hurt, a lot. He could barely think with the throbbing pain. He felt cold and stiff, where the hell was he? 

A light flashed on his face suddenly, and he recoiled, only to hit his head against a concrete wall. 

"Uh, you alright man?" 

He recognized that voice, that was the morning security guard. Mike looked up at the source of the light.

"Hello?"

He was shining his flashlight through two familiar purple curtains. 

Fuck, last night, running out of power, Foxy, it all came rushing back. 

"Am I dead?" asked Mike, half sincerely. He noticed the robot standing just out of outside view next to the curtain, hook raised as if it were about to decapitate the next person who entered.

"Uh, no but," the guard tapped his forehead. Mike mirrored the movement and felt the dried blood caked all over his face. 

"Shit..."

"Do, do you need me to call 911?" 

And what, tell the police he was attacked by evil robots? "No, I'll be fine. Thanks."

Mike stood up unsteadily and walked past the fox and the other guard. As he passed Foxy, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of movement in its plastic eye. 

____

The cut on his head turned out to be superficial when he examined it in his apartment. Foxy must have used the blunt end of its hook to knock Mike out, otherwise the security guard would most definitely be dead. 

The thing that bothered him most wasn't that he had almost died, it was that he didn't. All the other animatronics seemed bloodthirsty, desperately taking every chance to murder Mike. There was even a few close calls with the fox itself on the second night, so what changed? 

Maybe Foxy dragged him to Pirate's Cove intending to torture him before jamming him into a Fazbear suit, but was interrupted by the arrival of morning. But surely two hours was enough for Foxy to move Mike and kill him. And why not just do it at the office? 

There was another reason, and Mike for the life of him couldn't figure it out. 

He had bandaged his head and a few scrapes on his arms before heading to sleep in preparation for his next shift. He slept the day away and woke up at 6 PM. 

It was while he was drinking his afternoon cup of coffee that he decided to head to work early and investigate for himself before the animatronics turned lethal.

He knew it was a stupid idea, but Mike was already used to making those. 

___

The evening security guard nodded towards him as he entered at 8 PM, just before Freddy's closed. There weren't many customers, but he couldn't blame them for not wanting to eat at this shithole. 

Mike headed off toward Pirate's Cove, flashlight in hand. He made sure to tell the other guard where he was going, just in case Foxy decided to finish last night's business. 

He stepped past the out of order sign and between the curtains. Foxy was standing in the center of the stage, facing Mike. 

He stood still for a bit, hesitating, but Foxy just stared at him. 

Crap, now that he was there Mike had no idea what he was going to do. 

"Uh, hey Foxy," he settled on saying. "You remember me?" 

No response. Of course no response, free roam mode was offline during the day.

God, he felt unbearably stupid. Did the animatronics even understand speech?

"I, uh, I wanted to say thanks for not killing me," Mike rubbed the back of his neck, "just please don't give me a hard time tonight." 

He turned to leave. 

A burst of static from the robot surprised Mike, making him fall forwards. He looked up at the animatronic. Foxy's mouth began moving up and down to simulate speech. 

"Re - Remember ch-ch-children ta' c-c-come back ta' the-the cove sss-soon!" The voice clip was in a deep stereotypical pirate accent, but it was glitchy and filled with static. The fox's mouth slowly stopped moving.

Mike hesitantly stood back up and nodded towards Foxy, "I, uh, I," he swallowed, "okay." 

He backed out through the curtains, keeping an eye on the animatronic before running back to the safety of the other guard's presence.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike smashed the right door switch, slamming it shut on Chica. So far it was the only active one, Bonnie and Freddy had only twitched on the main stage and Foxy... 

He brought up his monitor and checked Pirate's Cove.

"SHIT!" 

He slammed the button down, but something nagged at him along with the pounding of adrenaline. Hadn't Foxy asked him to visit the Cove again? 

No, Mike was stupid for even thinking that. Foxy was a murderous robot, it had just glitched back then or something. Or maybe it was trying to manipulate him. It could have been a coincidence that Foxy said what it did.

He flicked the screen back on. Bonnie was in the kitchen now and Chica was back in in the restroom. He sighed in relief and opened both doors. 2 AM and at 70% power. Not the most ideal situation, but he'd make do. Mike checked Pirate's Cove again. 

Mike stared at the screen in disbelief for a few moments.

Foxy wasn't there. 

How long had it been since Foxy left? Did he even go back to the Cove? He switched to the hallway camera, expecting to see the pirate dashing through.

“What the FUCK!?” 

The robot was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring right at the camera. Not moving, just watching. A wave of nausea and dread came over Mike, anxiety pooling deep within his gut. The artificial eyes bored into the security guard through the video feed and he couldn’t take his own eyes away. 

He finally managed to tear his gaze away, the other animatronics were still out there, he couldn’t forget about them. They had killed the last guard, Mike had heard every moment of it just hours ago. They wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to him, even if Foxy spared him, that didn’t mean the others would too. 

Mike pressed the right light button and cursed loudly when Chica was staring right at him through the glass. He smashed the door button with his fist, but-

It didn’t close. 

Something mechanically groaned behind him. The guard froze.   
He slowly turned his head and saw Bonny standing behind him, hand reaching towards him. Mike lunged back and fell against the desk, cracking his head against the metal. His vision went fuzzy, but time seemed slow. The animatronic approached him, Mike raised his arms in a futile attempt to protect himself. 

Goddammit, this was really it, he was going to die, nothing up to this point mattered because he was about to be fucking murdered by children’s robots. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable. 

An ear piercing scream rang out through the office. Bonny already had him, was he just alerting the others?

Another shriek, was Chica here too? Mike opened his eyes slowly. 

Foxy was standing between the rabbit and him, hook raised against the rabbit. It was now or never, Mike jumped up and dashed out of the office, pressing the left door button as he exited through. He ran through the hallway, but the dizziness from earlier caught up to him, making him fall face first against the concrete floor. 

He unsteadily got up again, leaning against the poster covered wall for support. He wouldn’t be able to make it to the entrance in this state, not without being caught by the animatronics. There was only one place where he had the smallest chance of survival.

Mike unsteadily limped to Pirate’s Cove. Thankfully it was right at the end of the hallway. He managed to make it through the curtains before falling again. His vision was starting to fade and he stumbled back to the floor when he tried to stand up again. He glanced around, there were piles of props and trash scattered about the Cove. A large cutout of a cartoon ocean wave at the back of the stage stood out, Mike could easily hide behind that. He crawled behind it and leaned against the wall, hand over his mouth to try and slow his breathing. 

Fuck, what time was it even? How long would he have to wait? His vision was almost entirely black now, thinking was almost impossible. He couldn’t pass out, he needed to be conscious. Just stay awake, that was all he needed to do. 

Keeping his eyes open was impossible, and his hands fell down to his side. Everything felt so heavy. 

He barely heard the harsh heavy metal footsteps coming from down the hall, and the gentle movement of the curtains.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words! I really do appreciate them! I'm afraid this chapter isn't as good as the others, but it's been a week and I doubt I can do anything else to it. Enjoy! Thank you for reading!

The cold felt nice against his warm forehead. He couldn't open his eyes, but he knew he was in bed. The blankets were so warm and furry, he must have been at his parents' home. That low groaning was their dog, the creaking was the old wood settling. 

But there was that metal jutting into his back, what was that? He slowly reached for it. 

It was a wire, actually there were a lot of wires. 

He wasn't at home then, he was-

Oh shit.

Mike forced himself to stay still and not freak the absolute fuck out. Breathe in, breathe out, just calm down. 

The guard slowly forced his eyes open. Foxy stared down at him, jaw fallen open and its face appearing more mangled than ever before. Mike was in its lap, its hook set against the guard's forehead and its other hand gently holding up his head.

The only movement between the two was Foxy gently caressing Mike with the blunt end of its hook. 

The guard stared into the animatronic’s dull eyes, he forced himself to remember to breathe, and swallowed to wet his dry mouth. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when no noise came out. 

Finally he took a deep breath, “F-Foxy, p-please…”

Please what? Please don’t kill him? Please don’t leave him to be at the mercy of the other animatronics? Please all of the above? 

Foxy itself froze when Mike spoke. Its hook hovering above his hairline. Slowly, it moved its hand away and set it against the ground with a gentle clunk. It stared expectantly at Mike. 

“Can, Can I go…?” 

It tilted its head to the side, like it was confused. Its hook slowly raised again and it pointed to beyond the curtains. 

“The others, they’re still out there?” asked Mike, “What, What time is it?” 

It still stared at him. The guard swallowed again. 

“Foxy, I, uh, Thanks.” 

The robot’s mouth fell into a position that seemed like a poor imitation of a grin, its plastic eyelids raised, and Mike felt its other hand gently stroke the back of his neck. Was… Was Foxy genuinely happy? Did it even feel emotions? 

“W-why are you doing this?”

The animatronic’s head slowly lowered, Mike shut his eyes tight and flinched away instinctually. He felt something cold gently press itself against his forehead.

Oh.

Oh.

He understood. It was totally fucked up, but it made so much sense. 

Holy hell, Foxy was in love with him. Was that even possible? Obviously it was judging from how it’d been acting these past few nights, but…

Honestly, what the fuck. 

Mike hesitantly raised a hand and gently brushed the side of Foxy’s face. The fur was cold and coarse, but a sense of comfort came with it too. This powerful homicidal animatronic was devoted to him. Even in fucking Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, with its goddamn asshole robots and shitty pay and its overall godawful atmosphere, he was safe. 

That meant more to him than anything else in the world.

Christ, this place was driving him crazy. 

Foxy raised its hook and pointed through the curtains again. It slowly nodded. 

“I can- It’s safe now?” 

Another nod. Mike nodded in return. He got up from Foxy’s lap and looked back down at the animatronic. 

“Foxy… Thank you.” 

\--

Mike was trembling as he shut the door of his apartment behind him. Crap, he wasn’t even sure why he was shaking so much, just that he had no clue how to deal with the surge of emotion that ran through him. 

He was terrified, he always was after a shift at Freddy’s, but he was also relieved, elated, he was happy.

That scared him more than anything else. 

Mike was losing it for sure, being saved by the same thing that tried to maim you just a few days earlier was one thing, but for it to love him was something completely different. He knew he should be terrified, he knew he should quit...

But he couldn't. He needed to know more, needed to understand. 

Mike took a deep breath. 

He’d make his choice after tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update! I'm sorry these chapters are so short, I just run out of steam really easily haha
> 
> Thank you for your kind comments and kudos! Please enjoy!

It was 12:30, but the Cove was already empty. 

This time, Mike didn’t bother to shut the door. He just flicked the camera to the main stage. Bonnie and Chica had already left, and Freddy had just began to leave. He quickly located the rabbit in the dining hall and Chica in the women's restroom. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Mike vaguely wondered what that said about the state of his life when being hunted by children’s animatronics was “normal”. But he couldn’t contemplate that now. He had to live, that was the only goal for the next few hours. 

A familiar ear-piercing scream screeched down the left hallway. What the fuck?

He pulled up his screen again and checked on the cameras. 

No, no, no, no!

Mike dropped the screen on the desk and dashed out from his office. This couldn’t be happening, it shouldn’t be happening. 

But as he stepped past the west hall doorway, he saw it was.

Foxy was on the ground, screaming as Freddy Fazbear stepped on its broken chest, the pirate’s right arm held in the bear’s hand. Sparks fell and loose wires dangled from the dislocated limb. Mike watched, shock preventing any action, as Freddy bent over and grabbed a hold of Foxy’s head. Then without thinking-

“Hey! You fucking piece of shit!” 

Oh crap, crap, crap, why’d he do that? Mike instantly regretted it as Fazbear looked up at him. 

“H-hey, hey kids!” the main robot’s mouth fell open then slowly closed, its deep and unfittingly friendly voice recording just as glitchy as Foxy’s, “it, it’s m-me!” 

It still hadn’t let go of Foxy. 

“Guess what!?” Mike yelled again, why the hell was he doing this, “I’m breaking the rules! No suit! I taste fucking delicious! You’re a furry shit!” 

He wasn’t sure exactly which of the many things he said infuriated the animatronic, but it suddenly released the other robot with a loud clunk and charged at Mike. 

The guard turned and ran like hell. 

He still wasn’t sure why he was so desperate to save Foxy, but at least it had worked. The question now was whether or not he’d manage to live. 

Thankfully Fazbear was much slower than Mike, its clunky suit slowing it down, so he easily reached the security office and smashed the door button, slamming the metal panel shut. He quickly glanced around the office, looking for any of the other animatronics, but it was empty. 

He hit the light on the other door. Nothing there either, he released a sigh of relief. Mike picked up the monitor and looked, Chica was in the east hallway and Bonnie was in the supply closet. Judging from the enraged banging against his door, Freddy was still trying to get in. He checked the west hall, but Foxy was gone, including its severed arm. Mike hoped that it was safe back in Pirate’s Cove, but he had no way of telling. 

He checked the right light, catching Chica looking in and shut the door. So far this night was going fine, as long as Chica or Fazbear left soon. 

Thankfully, upon checking again, Chica was back in the dining hall and Freddy was in the restrooms. He opened both doors. 

It was almost 2 AM, 3 hours left to go.

\---

Mike watched on the cameras as the three animatronics returned to their positions on the stage. He breathed out and fell forwards against the desk, resting his head on the cool metal. He had survived. 

Then he remembered Foxy. Mike sighed and stood up, he had to make sure it was okay. After all, it had saved him twice. 

His own footsteps were the only sound in the hallway and in the Cove. He cautiously held up the purple curtain to get a view of the room behind. 

“Foxy?” he quietly called out. Something moved in the corner, the sound of metal being dragged against the wooden flooring. He watched as the animatronic slowly dragged itself into Mike’s view. He stepped in and let the curtain fall behind him. 

The robotic fox’s fur had been ripped off the middle of its chest, right where a large dent was. It held its hook arm in its left hand. Even its head and legs had taken some damage from the bear’s attack, its left eye was cracked and its right knee joint was visibly loose. 

Mike kneeled down besides the robot and gently laid a hand on its left shoulder. 

“I’m…” he sighed again, what was he even supposed to say to this? 

“I’m really sorry Foxy. I… This is my fault.” 

He leaned forwards and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Foxy’s shoulders, careful not to touch any of the frayed wires jutting out. 

“I’m going to try to fix you, okay? Just…” his eyes started to burn. A part of him wondered why he was getting so emotional over this robot, but he knew that Foxy wasn’t just some robot. It, no, he, genuinely had a degree of sentience. All of the others did. Mike didn’t understand why it had taken so long for the full brunt of that fact to finally hit him, but now he understood. 

He still didn’t know why the others wanted to kill him so much, but that didn’t matter. Only one thing did.

Mike wasn’t going to leave Foxy alone to be torn apart by the others. No matter what, they were both going to survive. 

Even if that meant spending another night at Freddy’s.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating last week! I've been very busy recently, but now that it's Christmas time, I should have less to do. If this chapter is sporadic, it's because it was written over a period of several small breaks in between classes and work. 
> 
> While not here, I have gotten several PMs stating that I have abandoned this story. This is FALSE. Please refrain from sending messages like that as they are very hurtful. If I were to abandon this story (which I probably won't) I would post one last chapter with a notice stating that it was abandoned. However, this is not abandoned, there is a 98% chance I will write this story all the way to the ending. 
> 
> Thank you for your kind reviews! Please, enjoy! Thank you for reading!

Mike opened his tool box and looked inside. There were a few rusty tools, one or two Phillips head screw drivers, about three standard ones, and a single large monkey wrench. They hadn't been touched since he inherited it from his father, except for when he lent it his friends. Apparently quite a few of them had neglected to put back some of the tools, leaving the box in its wimpily empty state. 

Okay, next he'd need something for the wires. There was like a 5% chance he'd successfully fix them with the instructions he printed from the internet, but at least he could bind them up to make sure they didn't get damaged even more. 

Mike glanced at the paper, he'd need electrical tape, wire nuts, and some insulated gloves. Maybe. Whatever, he'd ask for some more details at the electrician's when he went to pick up the supplies. 

Then there was the question of whether or not he'd actually be allowed back into Freddy Fazbear’s Family Pizzeria. If Foxy was discovered, then he was pretty sure he'd be escorted out by his replacement the moment he walked through the doors. 

Hopefully, no one would notice. No one ever mentioned the pirate's damaged state before hand. But knowing his luck, it'd be the one day they actually checked on the animatronic. 

Mike let out a small sigh as he shut the box. 

\------------

When he saw the owner of Fazbear’s walking towards him, the guard felt his stomach drop. The middle-aged brunette woman stopped in front of her employee. Mike prepared for the dreaded f-word. 

But instead she smiled, a cocky grin on her face.

“Back for more, huh?” 

“Uh,” Mike rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, the weight of the toolbox seeming to grow heavier with each passing second, “I, well, yeah I guess so.” 

“You know, it seems like Foxy’s really taken a shine to you.” 

Mike’s breath hitched and nausea began to rise up from his gut. Dammit, dammit, dammit! He hadn’t been careful enough and now…

“Mrs.Fazbear, I swear I didn’t do anything.” 

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow. 

“I mean, I’m not saying that anything happened, but if something did, then I swear to God, I had nothing to do with it.” 

Realization slowly dawned on her face, and she began to laugh, “Kid, why would I fire you over that crappy old robot?” 

Part of Mike was suddenly pissed that she even dared to dismiss Foxy as crap, but the majority of him was just relieved that he still had his job. “Then, uh… thanks?” 

“Hah! I should be thanking you! Do you have any idea how many guards we’ve lost to that thing? Ever since we hired you, our death rates have gone way down! We haven’t had to call the cleaners all week! Well, except for the mess Freddy left of that old coot on Wednesday, but that’s besides the point!” 

“Uh…” 

“Oh, sorry, sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I? Let me guess, you’re waiting for me to leave so you can try and fix Foxy, right?” 

Mike slowly nodded. He had the notion that he was working for a sociopathic owner after his first night, but this was taking shitty bosses to a whole new level. 

“No idea why you’d want to do that. Always hated that rust bucket. Let me just warn you here kid, there’s a reason Foxy’s act got scrapped.” 

Mike bit his tongue and nodded again. 

“Anyways, gotta go! Good luck! If you do die, try and keep your organs inside your body, okay? It’s a pain in the ass to clean. Thanks kiddo!” Mrs. Fazbear pushed Mike aside and walked past, not losing even a stride of her earlier pace. 

He glared through the glass doors at her. God, she was bitchier than his sixth grade math teacher. 

Mike sighed again, he couldn’t forget that he had returned for a reason. For Foxy. 

The memory of the animatronic in its mangled state relit the motivation from that morning and Mike only muttered a quick hello to the working guard before dashing off to the Cove. 

\------------------

“Foxy?” 

The sound of metal grinding against concrete was enough of a welcome for Mike. He took out a brand new flashlight and shined it through the opening in the curtains. Foxy was staring right at him, his head loosely dangling to the side. 

Mike frowned, but approached and set the toolbox down besides the animatronic. 

“I’m going to see what I can do, okay? I… If I do something wrong or bad, make me stop okay? Just, just please be gentle when you do.” 

A staticy growl came from Foxy’s mouth. He had no idea what that meant, but, well, whatever. 

He opened the box. He’d probably want to repair the arm first, right? Or should he try and fix Foxy’s head? Or-

Nah, starting with the arm was good. 

He gently grabbed it from Foxy’s hand. When he looked close, the wires didn’t seem too damaged. Each cord was color coded, so it was easy to press the two matching wires together and wrap a liberal coating of electrical tape over them. It had only taken a little more than ten minutes for Mike to put each wire together, but now he had to deal with the issue of Foxy’s exoskeleton. The fur was pretty much done for, not much he could do with the few remaining scraps. But it was pretty simple to duct tape one end of the metal to the other end. 

Mike looked at his work and…

and it was shit. 

The arm was attached, sure, but it was still loose and hanging at an awkward angle. The gray haphazardly wrapped around the pirate’s bright orange fur reminded him of a toddler’s art project. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he decided to fix Foxy, but this was just wimpy. 

He got off his knees and sat against the concrete flooring. It was uncomfortably cold and hard, but he didn’t really care. Mike squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he did so. Ugh, this was useless. 

Something metallic brushed against his shoulder before gently grasping it. Mike opened his eyes just in time for Foxy to bring him in against his furry chest in an awkward hug. 

“Th-” the animatronic’s mouth began to move and a glitchy voice clip played, “Thanks fer, fer c-c-coming to tha’ Co-C-Cove k-kid-kids!”  
It replayed again, “Thanks fer-”, only to be cut short without any warning. It repeated again, “Th-thank,” and again. Gradually as Mike listened to the repetitions, a new word was pieced together. 

“Thank y-you.” 

Mike closed his eyes, gently this time, and slowly wrapped his arms around Foxy.

“You’re welcome.” 

He pulled away and smiled at the animatronic.

“Now let’s fix the rest of you.” 

\------

Foxy’s head turned out to be more of an issue than his arm, mostly due to the fact that the wiring and mechanical joints were much more complicated. As the time for his shift approached, Mike sighed and settled for just taping bundles of wires together and hoping for the best. He tried to tape the pirate’s neck back on properly as well, which led to several awkward dull gray clumps. 

But at least it worked. 

Kind of. 

Whatever, he’d get some orange fabric from the store during his day off and come back in on Monday to try and make Foxy at least somewhat presentable. He doubted that his efforts were going to fix everything that time and Fazbear had done to him, but at least he’d be in a better state. 

Mike shut the box and stood up. Foxy’s head clumsily followed his movement. 

“My shift’s in a few minutes. Just, uh, chill here. I don’t think the others will bug you. Uh, ‘kay?” 

The pirate nodded slowly. Mike sighed and turned his back to the animatronic and began to walk towards the curtains.

He looked back before stepping through the purple cloth.

“See you later, Foxy. I promise.” 

With that, Mike turned his flashlight on and flashed it across the Cove. No homicidal animals planning a surprise attack. Thank God. His path down the hallway was equally uneventful. Not that he was complaining. The less near death experiences, the better.

Mike reached the office within a few minutes and flopped down into the now familiar chair. It had only been five nights, but he already felt like he’d spent years at Fazbear’s. Maybe that was a side effect of almost dying every goddamn night. 

He flicked the screen on. The band was on the stage still, exactly where they always were at midnight. Mike quickly turned it off, if the words of his dead predecessor ringing in his head. So far he found that it was true that the animatronics became more aggressive with each night. But he didn’t have Foxy to worry about anymore, so he had an advantage over the past guard. 

Mike felt vaguely bad about thinking about his friend (Were they even friends? Was it even possible to be friends with a murderous robot?) in such a detached way, but it was a true fact. 

He turned the screen on. Bonnie and Chica were gone, but he located them within quickly. They seemed to have a pattern they liked to follow. Not Freddy though, Fazbear did as he pleased. Which was equal parts fucking annoying and terrifying. 

The guard sighed again. He was knocking on death’s door again. A very painful and family inappropriate death. 

But he wasn’t going to die. Not at a goddamn pizzeria. And especially not when Foxy was relying on him. 

Chica wasn’t anywhere to be seen on the monitor, so Mike tapped the right light. He wasn’t even fazed by the chicken staring in through the window anymore, he just habitually pressed the door button. 

In spite of the situation, a small smile grew. 

Mike was beginning to understand why the guy on the phone came back time after time, even with the nonexistent employee safety guidelines and the shitty pay. The rush that came from working at Fazbear’s was, for lack of any better word, addicting. 

If anything, he felt like he was starting to belong here. Who else was going to be live prey for homicidal fursuits? 

He opened the right door and shut the left, only to hear Bonnie’s frustrated mechanical groans from the other side. As he found Fazbear staring at him through the cameras in the dining room, Mike decided there was no other place he’d rather be.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how late this is, for lack of better terms, my life went down the shitter. I wrote this mostly to get back into the flow of writing this story, so it probably won't be the best chapter. I also put a lot of my own feelings into this, so if it gets too rambly, I apologize. Thank you all for your kind words and for reading! Please, enjoy.

Mike leaned back and admired his finished handiwork.

Well, maybe ‘admired’ is a bit too generous. Rather he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned miserably. The red-orange fabric (the cheapest and only one he could afford from the store) didn’t match Foxy’s coloration at all. He opened his eyes and looked up at the Pirate, hoping for some reaction from the animatronic.

None, none at all.

The security guard sighed, it was the middle of the day, of course he’d get nothing. Over the past few days he’d spent nearly nonstop at Fazbear’s, he’d noticed that the animatronics would gradually become more active till nightfall, at which point they started hunting for him. On Tuesday, or rather, yesterday, he had reached the conclusion that Foxy became capable of vocal responses rather than small twitches and static at about 8 PM. However, those responses were still limited to his voice bank, having a full conversation with him was almost impossible, but that didn’t stop Mike from trying.

"For fuck's sake..." groaned Mike. There were still times where he became frustrated with himself for being so stupidly emotional about a frickin' robot.

But to be fair, this was the first time he was ever needed by someone. The first time someone had given up so much for him. It wasn’t that he had a bad childhood, his parents loved him enough and did all they kid. It was just that even they had to give up on him after a point. He remembered what they said to him two years ago.

“We’re sorry Mike, but we can’t keep supporting you like this. Your sister needs a chance too, so that’s why…”

“You won’t give up on me though, right Foxy?” he asked the inactive machine, fully knowing he wouldn’t get anything in response. “If I go, then no one’ll be here to distract Fazbear from you.”

Although, that was his fault in the first place.

He sighed again.

“You’re my only friend, y’know.”

***

The man in his bathroom mirror was almost unrecognizable. Mike really didn’t know what else he was expecting though. He’d practically stopped eating to save up money for repairing Foxy, and even though he’d barely lost any weight yet, his skin looked dead. A patch of sparse hair had started to grow above his lip, not little enough to be unnoticable, and not enough to be considered facial hair. It was in the awkward middle zone that just made him look like he had walked straight off the set of America’s Most Wanted.

He snickered bitterly as he realized he looked just like the kids he used to make fun of in high school. The pathetic loner types who probably spent their free time watching cartoon porn and sleeping as they patted themselves on the back for being unique. The same kids who’d swear up and down that they’d make something of themselves, that as soon as their time came, they’d be magically transform into productive members of society who actually took showers. They were just waiting for a chance.

In that case, they were better off than Mike. His chance had already came, and he wasted it. Now all he had left was a tiny-ass garbage apartment, a rustbucket truck, and a shitastic job.

And Foxy.

He splashed freezing yellow water into his face, the faucet rattling as the water flowed out. The handle squeaked when it was turned into the off position and Mike’s cellphone began to vibrate in his pocket.

He made a mental bet with himself, if it was a telemarketer then he’d grab a hot dog from the stand around the corner, if it were his old college mates asking if he wanted to get high with them, he’d get a beer from the nearby convenience store. Mike’d hang up either way.

Well, shit. It wasn’t either of those. But after this, he’d probably go for the beer anyways. A phone call from Freddy Fazbear’s Family Pizzeria seemed like a perfect start to a day of gratuitous drinking. He pressed the answer button.

“Mike Schmidt here.”

_“Oh hey Mike! You’re the one that’s been spending all that time with Foxy, right?”_ replied Mrs. Fazbear from the other side. Great. Why couldn’t it have been one of the guards or managers or anyone that wasn’t a crazy sociopath?

“Uh, yeah, er, yes mam.”

_“Yeah, yeah, he’s looking the best he has in at least a decade. But, uh, I just wanted to know why you’re bothering to fix him up when we’ll be like, closing down in a few months.”_

“Wait,” his mouth was suddenly dry, “what?! When!?”

_“Oh… wow, no wonder you’re working for us. You’re a freaking moron,”_ she laughed loudly, hurting Mike’s ears, but he didn’t dare pull the phone away, “ _We’ll be closing by, uh, one sec lemme check… oh yeah, January 21st.”_

__

Shit, shit, shit, two months.

“But… what about Fo- the animatronics?”

_“Freddy’s crew’s going into storage. This isn’t the first time we’ve closed our doors, we’ll probably bring them back out soon enough. But, eh, you don’t care about them do you? Heh, I don’t blame you, I’d be pissed if they tried killing me every night too. But uh, you wasted your time trying to fix him up. He’s like, broken and outdated, so it’ll be cheaper if we just buy a new model when we reopen.”_

__

“Then you’re going to,” he bit down on his tongue not to curse loudly, “you’re going to scrap him?”

_“Uh… yeah? Isn’t that obvious?”_ she laughed again.

Mike opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened it again, and without thinking, “How much is he?”

_“What?”_

“I’ll buy him.”

_“You're kidding, right?"_

The logical part of his brain was shouting "YES", but fuck that, he'd never lived logically. So why start now?

"I'm not joking around, I want to buy him. It'll be better for you too, right? You'll be paid and won't have to deal with the disposal fees."

There was stunned silence from the owner.  

"Please," said Mike after moments of nothing.

_“Twelve hundred dollars. I want it before we close down, not a moment later.”_

Never before had Mike wanted to equally hug a person and crush their windpipe, but he took a deep breath and said, “yes mam.”

_“Also we’re going to need you to come in early for your next shift. Got that?”_

He nodded. She didn’t need to say what happened, he could picture it. Some poor fuck being slowly crushed. He felt apathetic at the thought.

_“Bye-bye._ ” she said, and the phone clicked.

Mike was glad he was in the restroom when the urge to hurl bubbled up suddenly.

He was so fucking screwed.

***

After his sudden bout of naseua, Mike laid in his bed, anxiously nibbling his left ring finger. He’d moved on from his pinkie when it started to bleed.

He could take another job, but no one was hiring a month ago besides Fazbear’s. He doubted that’d changed. He would sell things, but he already did that when he was unemployed. A few years back, he would have asked his friends for help, but he knew that they were as broke as him now. There was another solution that kept edging into his thoughts, he could always call his parents and ask for help. But he hadn’t talked to them in years, he doubted that they would willing just give him over a thousand dollars, no questions asked.

Mike snickered when he remembered his video game fueled adolescent fantasies. He used to think money was so easy to make if you were willing to wave a gun around and make stupid demands. He wished he could have punched his younger self.

Of course, he could always just let Foxy get scrapped and save his earnings. The thought made his chest tighten. It would be for the best, many people died because of the animatronic, and Mike could finally move on with his life.

“I’m not doing that,” he muttered to himself. The pros of ditching Foxy kept loudly listing themselves out in his head.

He covered his ears with both hands, nails digging into his scalp.

Mike laughed again at the mental image of how he must have looked. A skinny shit trying to block out words that didn’t even exist. Holy hell, he was fucking crazy. Like genuinely batshit insane. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the tears start to form.

But an idea hit. Mike opened his eyes wide, and smiled.

***

“Hey, Mom?”

Silence from the other side. He knew he didn’t get the number wrong though, he recognized his mother’s voice when she picked up the phone.

“Mom, it’s me.”

_“Honey, it’s been so long, why are you calling now?”_

Not even an “oh I missed you!” or a “You’re a failure, Mike.” At least it was better than her hanging up when she heard his voice.

“I just, I wanted to see how things are,” he said, trying a nonchalant approach. It failed in his own ears, he pretty much could have just said, “Hey, let me into your house so I can take your stuff.”

But it seemed to work on his mother. She sighed in relief, _“When I saw you called, I was so worried something happened! Are you… you know…?”_

“Yeah, I’ve been clean for two years,” he replied. Granted, he still didn’t put potheads in the same boat as junkies and meth whores, but it was pointless arguing about that now.

_“Oh Mikey! I’m so proud!”_

He knew she was bullshitting, but didn’t interrupt.

“Wait a sec,” a gentle thud from the speaker and muffled voices in the background. Mike recognized his dad’s and… was that his sister?

_“Your dad wants to talk to you. I’m so happy you’ve called, I’ve missed you so much!”_

“I missed you too, Mom.”

Mike wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not.

_“Mike.”_

“Hi, Dad.”

_“Why are you calling now?”_ he sounded distrustful and suspicious, but the tiniest bit happy.

“I wanted to see what was up, y’know, just talk with you guys.”

_“Why didn’t you call us before?”_

Mike clenched his jaw, he could say the truth, that even though he understood why they threw him out, he still hated them for it. But instead he said, “I wanted to get my life together.”

Eh, half-bullshit there.

_“Mike… you’re a good kid.”_

That wasn’t true.

“Uh, I also wanted to know if we could get together again, like…” he almost said like a normal family, “like we used to.”

More muffled voices.

_“That’d be great.”_

Mike ignored the voices in his head, the ones screaming “you’re a sick fuck.” He just forced a smile into his voice and said, “I’m free on weekends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I apologize for the lack of italics in earlier chapters and the odd formatting. My computer always has errors with AO3, but I think I've figured out a way around some issues. This story on Fanfiction. Net has much better formatting. Thank you for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so very sorry for how long it's been. Things have been hard for me lately, but reading all of your guys' comments helped me get off my self-pitying ass and onto working on something productive. I promise promise promise that it will not take this long for the next update.
> 
> Thank you for all your kind comments, they really have done much for me. Reading them all helped me get through hard times, so thank you all. 
> 
> I am discontent with this chapter, however, if I wait to make it perfect, it will never be released. It is very plot heavy. I hope you all still enjoy.

Mike nibbled on his thumbnail and glanced at the car radio's clock. Dammit, it felt like he'd been at this red light for hours but it'd been less than a minute. He swore under his breath and anxiously tapped the steering wheel with his other hand. Another glance at the clock.  
Crap, was it too late to cancel? Maybe he'd say something at work came up, or that he caught the flu, or something.

Mike caught his own reflection in the doorside mirror. He watched himself shake his head. If he wimped out now, it'd be too suspicious, he'd never get this chance again. His parents would immediately assume the worst and disown him. Again. 

Just thinking about it frustrated him. Mike squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dammit, dammit, this was a really bad idea. 

But... it was for Foxy. So it couldn’t really be that bad right?

Mike opened his eyes and laughed at the pathetic justification. 

The traffic light flashed to green. 

_____

“Hello…?” 

Mike jumped at the quiet voice. He’d been knocking at the two-story suburban house for the past five minutes and was about to give up when the burgundy door cracked open. He looked down slightly through the small opening. 

“Hey Lili,” the security guard knelt down, “Can you let me in?”

“Mom and dad aren’t home yet.” 

He winced, he was already being treated like an outsider. “C’mon, I’m your big bro. I promise I won’t do anything bad.” 

Lilian stared at him. She was young, 7 years old or something. Mike felt slightly bad for not being able to remember, but she’d barely crossed his mind even before he was kicked out. Lili bit her lip nervously and reached up for the chain lock-

“Oh, Mike! We weren’t expecting you!” 

He looked back and saw his parents, paper grocery bags in their hands. His dad quickly spoke up after his mother, “So soon of course. We weren’t expecting you so soon.” 

Mike stood up and rubbed the back of his head nervously. “Uh, sorry…? I…”

“It’s fine, really. We’re happy to see you,” said his mom. The door slowly swung open and Lili jumped out, running to give their dad a hug that only reached his waist. 

It felt awkward standing there, like he was an unwanted intruder in their lives. He wanted to ditch this dumbass plan and go back to his shitty apartment and his shitty life. His family was never this happy when he was around, or at least not to his face. Always the lectures, always the pestering. Old hatred riled up again, but Mike wasn’t sure if it was hatred for his parents or for himself. 

“Hey, Mike, did you hear me?” 

He snapped out of his doze at his dad’s voice. His parents were frowning and his mom was walking closer. Probably to check his eyes. It’d become a habit for her in the year before he left. 

“What?” 

Lili pointed towards his shirt. He glanced down to see the familiar logo of Freddy Fazbear’s face. 

“I drove here from work, I didn’t have time to change, I mean, I hope that’s okay.”

Okay, that was smooth. Definitely smooth. He totally didn’t sound like a stuttery nervous wreck. 

“Of course it’s okay, it’s just that… well,” his dad knelt down to Lili and whispered in her ear. A grin grew on her face, the first one he’d seen since… well since forever. She dashed to Mike and looked up at her brother. Her face was gleaming. 

“Have you met Chica?” 

“Yeah, I, uh,” Mike glanced up at his parents. They were staring at him with a mixture of expectancy and hope. He looked back to his sister. “Yeah, I have. She’s really, uh, energetic and stuff. Do you want me to introduce you to her?” 

He forced a smile, hoping that his parents would protest or something. Mixing this and Fazbear’s seemed… wrong. After so many years, his memories of home were obscured in a partially pot-induced haze, but his memories of Foxy and the others remained clear. He could recall the exact instance he first saw Bonnie move from the stage, the feelings when he first saw Chica looking in through his office window. Every day, just before he slept, he’d relive the day Foxy saved him from Freddy. Everything revolved around that place. His life was divided in two the moment he answered that ad in the newspaper. 

But his parents only nodded in approval when he looked up. 

Shit. 

_____________

 

The house smelled different. Not that he remembered how it smelled before it left. Mike just knew that it smelled different. 

The rooms seemed to be the same for the most part, a few more crappy souvenirs here and there, a few less pre-eviction family photos here and there. If he looked closely in the background of two particular pictures, he could see his high school graduate self wandering off in the distance. 

But the most noticeable difference was that his room was gone. Well, not literally of course. Mike knew his parents weren’t that crazy. He still had to do a double-take when he saw nothing but dolls and toys. He walked in, then walked back out, wondering if maybe he’d just forgotten which room was his, then back in when he realized how crazy that’d be. 

He glanced around, looking for any sign that this used to be where he lived for 23 years. Where he slept, ate, where he brought friends back after parties and where his parents told him to get the hell out of their house. But even the small nicks in the walls were painted over in fresh coats of white. 

His parents tried their best to erase him.

That fact bothered him less than it should have. 

Footsteps entered the room behind him and he instinctively reached for a non-existent button.

“What are you doing?” his sister asked.

Mike tried to smooth the motion over into a weird arm stretch. He turned around and tried to shrug as casually as possible in his current position. “Oh, uh, hi. I’m just, uh, y’know, looking around.” 

Lili shrugged too and held out a piece of paper in her hands. It took a moment for Mike to realize she wanted him to look at it. So he took the gently folded paper and opened it. 

It was a crayon drawing of the Fazbear crew, but it was missing someone. An odd feeling swelled up in Mike’s chest at Foxy’s absence. 

“I like Chica,” she said quietly, “who do you like?”

The feeling grew. Without thinking, Mike reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his flip phone. He knelt down besides Lili and opened the cover, a low quality image of Foxy filling the tiny cheap digital screen. He’d taken the photo several days previously, a reminder of why he had to do this to his family. Guilt spread across his body, his fingers felt cold and numb. 

“Who’s that?” 

“That’s Foxy the Pirate. He’s… not with the others. He has his own stage, I take ca- help take care of him.” 

Lili’s eyes widened. “Are you friends?” 

Mike didn’t know how to respond. Foxy was sentient and definitely felt a friend, but he’d done things for Mike that his human friends never had. Either he had shitty friends or Foxy was something beyond a friend. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

She grabbed onto Mike’s arm and stared at him hopefully. “Can I meet him? Please?” 

“If mom and dad are okay with it." 

That was a lie. Even if they did say yes, he could already think of endless lines of excuses that'd last till the place closed. He wasn't going let anyone else see Foxy because-

Because Foxy was his. 

Lili smiled wide and ran out, probably to ask their parents immediately. Mike got up and walked out of his ex-bedroom. He glanced at a door, slightly ajar. If nothing else had changed, this'd be the master bedroom and tucked under the bed would be a safe. The passcode would be 0604, his parent's anniversary. Inside would be… well, there’d be something. As a naive obedient kid, he never exactly saw what was in it, but it had to be something important if his parents had locked it up for so long. 

His dad used to show it to him sometimes. He’d tell him that he’d open it when he grew up. But that never happened. The opening that is, Mike was pretty sure that after everything, he’d grown up just fine.

Maybe. 

Mike shook his head and followed his sister. His ears drummed with a dum-de-dum.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I keep saying I'll update more regularly and never do it. My bad.
> 
> Here's a chapter, it jumps around a lot, and is a bit short, but I haven't been able to add to it for a really long time. I hope that by posting it I'll find more motivation to finally wrap up the last few chapters. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words.

The safe’s knob refused to turn at first, but with some effort, it rotated smoothly across the number face. Mike looked up and glanced out the doorway. He knew he was being paranoid, he’d watched his sister board the school bus, and his parents pull out and head off to wherever the hell they worked nowadays. But there was that incessant feeling of being watched, the anxiety that if he made a single mistake, it’d be disasterous. The same dark cloud that hounded him for the first few days he worked at Fazbear’s. 

Mike grit his teeth. He was being an idiot. Well, more of an idiot than usual. He looked back down to the safe and quickly entered 0604. He breathed in deeply and turned the small metal handle and-

It didn’t open. 

Cursing under his breath, he fully rotated the knob twice to reset it, then re-entered the code. Another heavy inhale, another pull. Nothing. 

“Fuck no, no, no,” Mike tried it again, then again, then one more time for good measure. He braced his left hand against the small box and pulled on the handle with as much strength as he could muster in the other. 

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!” 

He dropped the broken plastic and waved his hand in the air sporadically. It’d ripped through the fabric of his dad’s old work gloves like butter. Mike bit his cheek and brought his hand close to his face, clutching it with his other. The cut only barely broke through the skin. Stung like a bitch though. 

Mike clenched his hurt fist and winced. It ached more this way, but if his blood got on anything, it’d be a one-way ticket to jail. He looked around. There wasn’t anything that’d be useful for prying the safe open though.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

How had he forgotten the code? It’d been in his head for so long, how could he forget it? Had he just never remembered it right? He cursed under his breath. Of course this didn’t work. Everytime he tried to do anything, he always screwed it up. 

Mike reached for the safe with his left hand. He blindly felt around until he got a good grasp on the metal cube. He pulled it out from under the bed, stood up-

And threw it. 

It went over the staircase railing and smashed into the wooden flooring with a loud CKKRANG. Mike ran to see if his impulse had actually done anything, but what he saw was exactly what he expected. If anything, the safe caused more damage to the floor. 

“Well, FUCK YOU TOO!” he screamed at the box. 

Mike turned back and returned to his parents’ room. He had no clue why he was still here, shit, he had no clue why he came here in the first place. Okay, that was bullshit, but… but still. 

An idea, well, more of a memory, rushed into his mind’s spotlight. As a kid, he’d watch his mom store her jewelry in one of the dresser drawers. Mike rushed to it, and roughly pulled the top drawer out. Just underwear, he could have gone without seeing it, but goddammit he was on a mission. 

He let it fall to the floor, and moved on to the next drawer.

 

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ 

Breathing heavily, Mike stared at the wrecked remains of the master bedroom.

Well, shit. 

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he kinda stopped looking for valuables and kidna started rampaging mindlessly. He stepped over half of a broken end table. 

There hadn’t been anything besides clothes in the dresser (that was now lying on the floor), or anywhere really. He had even pushed the bed across half the room, hoping for a dropped necklace. But still, nothing. Nothing to pay for his efforts but broken furniture and a hand that hurt like hell. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even feel any better. The dark knot of anxiety and frustration in his stomach remained. He shook his head, and stepped back into the hallway. 

A portrait of his parents with Lili in their lap smiled at him. 

Mike threw it over the railing. 

 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The fake fur against his back was cold and scratchy, but it was still comforting. Really nowadays, just sitting like this was the only way he could relax at all. Mike moved his head upwards, rubbing his forehead against Foxy’s chin. There was still the anxious “oh crap” factor of being in a murderous robot’s lap. But compared to the peace of mind he got from it? It was nothing. 

Mike looked down at his watch and laughed quietly. Fifteen minutes till his shift, but he’d wasted thirty minutes just sitting. God, he felt old. 

Foxy whirred and groaned as he slightly tilted his head. His speech was still buggy, so over time, Mike had learned to read the animatronic’s stuttery body language. A head tilt was pretty much a question mark.

“It’s nothing,” he said, staring upwards at the robot’s chin. “I’m just… really tired y’know?” 

Mike shrugged and looked back down. He wondered if Foxy knew about the place closing down, or if he was even possible of understanding. How much did Foxy understand anyways? He was obviously smarter than an average animal, but the short sentences he spoke never expressed much more than a childlike understanding. 

He grimaced and shoved that thought away. He already had his weird dependency on the animatronic on his plate, no need to add anything else. Mike sighed.

“I needed money for… uh, for something. And I did something dumb about a week back and… God, I just,” Mike reached upwards and rubbed Foxy’s neck with his uninjured hand. “I messed up really bad.” 

More whirring noises, and the dull end of Foxy’s hook was against Mike’s cheek. The pirate animatronic quietly played its song. 

It… honestly wasn’t comforting. It just made him feel sad. Maybe a bit guilty. He’d never been good at fully understanding how he felt. Probably was why he made so many bad choices. 

Mike sighed, and moved away from the animatronic. 

“I’ll see you after my shift, okay?” 

Foxy opened its mouth, static flooding the quiet backstage of Pirate’s Cove. The security guard nodded and walked away, slipping between the curtains. 

“...M-m-matey, yi-i-ike…” 

The pirate fox stared at the curtains.

_ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ 

By now it was beyond a rhythm. More along the lines of muscle memory. Right door, left door, open right, close it again, so on, and so on. 

Sometimes his right hand would throb with a raw ache, and the beat would stutter. His heart would stop for a beat but he’d recover quickly and fall back into the flow. Occasionally the responsible part of him would speak up and ask to get his hand checked out, but he’d stifle it quickly. He didn’t have time or money for a doctor, it was just a cut. It seemed to get redder by the day, but it’d heal soon. Mike was sure. 

The hours passed by quickly and slowly. It was tedious, but he could just blank out for most of it. He understood why the guy on the phone stayed here for so long before he… well, before that. The clock hit 6 AM and Mike let out a deep breath, and sat back in the cheap chair. There was an odd feeling that came with the thought that these animatronics, that Foxy, was actually genuinely dangerous. That they’d killed before. He always acknowledged it, but it’d always been something on the back of his mind since his first few weeks. 

Mike shook his head. Those kinds of things happened. 

Yeah.


End file.
